


beyond the gray sky

by days4daisy



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Extra Treat, Journey to the Underworld, M/M, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 02:36:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20556803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/days4daisy/pseuds/days4daisy
Summary: “Rabbit?” Thor frowns. “Are you really here?”“In the flesh,” Rocket says. “Er, I mean - I don’t know if that’s how things work here, but-”





	beyond the gray sky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elpollodiablo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elpollodiablo/gifts).

Rocket isn’t sure of much when he wakes up, only that he’s missing something.

He doesn’t know this place. The long, grassy field or the open wooden doors that stretch up past the clouds. The sun is warm on Rocket’s fur, and the air smells like spring.

He’s missing something big, but he isn’t sure where to look. The hall that greets Rocket seems to have no end. Three long tables stretch further than Rocket can see. The chandeliers are wood rings with mounted candles. The food on the tables is fresh and plentiful. All around Rocket, humanoids way bigger than him laugh and shout with joy.

“Third table,” a man with gold eyes tells Rocket. He lounges beside the door, boots kicked up on a second chair. “Twenty chairs down.” He smiles like he knows Rocket, but Rocket doesn’t know him. It’s like his brain isn’t working. He should remember more, like why he's here. Like where 'here' is.

The chairs are fit for royalty. Gold trimmed and dressed with red felt seats. Rocket can't see over them as he trudges down the row. He goes unnoticed between clanked mugs and songs echoing through the long hall. Rocket can’t see an end to the room. Maybe it doesn’t have one.

Twenty places down, a few strands of blonde hair sift over the chair’s edge.

Right. Rocket lost someone. Someone he didn't want to give up.

“Thor.” The voice belongs to a heavyset guy, braided red beard hanging to his chest.

Beside him, three others fall quiet. A man with long black hair. Another with a blonde mop and matching blonde goatee. And a woman with long dark braids wearing warrior armor.

They stare across the table at Rocket, and everyone else stops too. Conversation in the entire hall pauses. Chairs scratch against the floor as they turn to look at their new company. Rushed whispers hiss between the tables. Even the drinking ceases.

The twentieth chair tilts back.

He’s not the Thor Rocket remembers. His hair is still long, but it’s freshly washed and pulled back in a neat bun. Thor has both eyes, blue and curious as he turns his seat to see what the fuss is about. He's trimmed his beard short, and he’s in the shape he was when Rocket first met him.

Thor, right. Rocket came to get Thor.

“Rabbit?” Thor frowns. “Are you really here?”

“In the flesh,” Rocket says. “Er, I mean - I don’t know if that’s how things work here, but-”

“What are you doing here?” It’s a demand of a question, and it would offend Rocket if he didn’t hear the shake in Thor’s voice. “How… I thought…” He sinks to the floor from his seat, looking as lost as Rocket feels.

Rocket came to get Thor, right. Because Thor’s dead, isn’t he? Thor’s dead, and Rocket must be too.

“Mind pretending you’re glad to see me?" Rocket mutters. "This is getting weird.”

He sees flashes. The gauntlet. Thor on the ground, smiling and half-burned.

He was dead, why the hell was he smiling?

Thor gathers Rocket into his arms so fast that Rocket gets the wind knocked out of him. Thor cups Rocket’s head in a large hand. Rocket feels claustrophobic. It’s too much. He’s too much.

Thor was gone, but now he’s here. And Rocket’s here.

Rocket registers the shake of Thor’s massive shoulders. “Are you crying?” he asks.

“No,” Thor croaks. He tucks his face against Rocket’s face. “Yes,” he amends with a sheepish sniff.

Rocket snorts and mutters, “Idiot,” with a pat of his cheek.

"It's just, you shouldn't be here," Thor insists. "You were supposed to live, Rabbit. You were supposed to go on with your family."

Rocket did. He tried anyway, for awhile. But it didn't make sense, going on adventures with his crew knowing Thor was in the ground back on C-53. Pretending stuff was back to normal after what Thor did.

"Yeah well, you're my family too," Rocket grumbles. "So quit your blubbering."

Thor makes a valiant attempt. He scrubs his wet eyes with the back of a hand.

With a watery smile, Thor shows Rocket off to the gawking table behind him. "My friends," he says, "this is Rocket, the most noble of captains and loyal of rabbits. He celebrated with me in moments of great triumph and comforted me in my deepest times of despair."

Rocket's not sure he would call ignoring Thor for five years while the guy drank himself into a stupor 'comfort'...

From the table, wary surprise turns to warmed curiosity. The blonde of Thor's pals cocks his head. "You know, I never thought one not of Asgard would be welcome in Valhalla. But I don't see why not."

"Yes, why not?" the burly redhead agrees. "All are welcome in the grand hall who die a warrior's death."

The black haired man nods in solemn agreement. "Your brother is here, after all," he says to Thor. Quiet though the words are, they stir agreement among their neighbors. Shock turns to murmurs of support.

The dark haired woman smiles at Rocket. "These are Fandral, Volstagg, and Hogun, the Warriors Three. And I am Sif. It seems you and Thor have shared many adventures."

"We've had some doozies," Rocket says.

Thor laughs in agreement. "Indeed, and my dear Rabbit here is a masterful storyteller."

Rocket raises a brow. "I am?"

"Tremendous!" Thor retakes his seat and pats the tabletop. "Join us," he invites with a smile. "Come, a flagon of ale for this great warrior." He gazes warmly at Rocket. "It will be our honor to share our table with you."

Across the table, Sif and the Warriors Three nod. Agreement echoes down their long table, and from their neighboring feasters. Mugs of ale and cups of wine rise in toast.

Rocket climbs to the tabletop and settles in front of Thor. "I mean," he takes up his cup with a bemused smile, "where the hell do I start?"

***

It's a crazy feast with food for miles and more booze than Rocket's ever seen in one place. He tells stories of his own and takes in the adventures of others. They love stories around these parts - tales of quests or danger or love or battle. Some make the rows upon rows of listeners laugh themselves to tears. Others bring out sighs of sympathy or regret.

Rocket gets to see Thor's mom again and even meets Thor's pops. Unlike Thor, his dad still has a metal eye guard over a missing eye. "Odin traded his eye for wisdom," Thor explains under his breath. "He's quite proud of it."

Thor's mom seems pretty happy to see Rocket again.

Thor's old man says, "To think, I believed my son would one day take a worthy wife."

"Hush," Frigga tells him as they leave.

There are others too. A whole line of soldiers Thor once knew or led into battle. Rocket sees the guy with the gold eyes again. Turns out, he's the best friend Thor told him about before Nidavellir. Feels like forever ago.

Rocket meets the dead brother too. He doesn't look much like Thor, but he's got that same hoity posture, like he's someone just as important.

Loki eyes Rocket and remarks to Thor, "It's funny, I once questioned your taste for choosing Jane Foster for a mate."

"And I once questioned your taste for trying to enslave Midgard," Thor answers with a smile.

Rocket looks between them. "I remember Jane," he says. "Stabbed her in the ass once. She seemed nice. You know, before the screaming and stuff."

Loki eyes Rocket with a raised brow. His silence must be unusual because Thor laughs and doesn't stop for awhile.

When it's done, warm from good ale, Rocket sprawls outside the great hall with Thor. He rubs his full belly. "Oh man." The grass is soft as the best bedsheets units can buy. "I've never eaten so damn much."

"There is a new feast every eve," Thor says. On his back in the grass, Thor looks long and relaxed. He smothers a yawn against the back of a hand. Moments later, the same hand plucks lazily at Rocket's shoulder.

"I mean, that's awesome and all." Rocket tips his head back to look at Thor. "But why? What's the point? No one here needs food or drink or whatever. Why put all this on?"

"Why not?" Thor counters, smiling. "It's not the feast itself, Rabbit. It's the communion. It's reliving mighty battles with warriors you knew in life and delighting in the tales of those you did not."

Rocket snorts. "Could do without reliving some of our battles, man."

Thor turns pensive, gazing down at Rocket. "Do you remember how you died?" he asks. "Were you battling someone?"

The past is like water through a strainer for Rocket. He squints like looking harder will make his memories come into focus. "I think I was looking for you," he says slowly. "It's fuzzy past that."

Thor's expression takes on a touch of sadness. He traces the fur of Rocket's arm.

"Well, you found me," Thor says. His massive body casts a shadow over Rocket when he turns. "That makes me yours for as long as you'll have me."

Thor uses a kiss for punctuation. His lips sink into the soft fur of Rocket's neck.

Rocket blows out a breath and twists restless fingers through Thor's hair. "We allowed to do this here?"

A playful light returns to Thor's eyes. It's not fair for them to be so blue. "I belong to you now," he says. "You tell me what I may or may not do."

Rocket chuckles. "That ain't smart, man." He takes his time sizing Thor up. "Guys like me, we take advantage."

Thor plucks the zipper of Rocket's flight suit and eases it down. Then, he stops for some reason. He's staring at Rocket's bared stomach, tongue tracing over his lips.

Rocket frowns. "What? What is it?"

Thor splays a gentle hand across Rocket's belly. His fingers sift through Rocket's fur. They're not once impeded by bolts or screws. No bad stitch job. No metal hooking the joints together.

Rocket stares down at himself in wonder.

Thor is way nicer than Rocket; when Rocket wipes away a tear, he doesn't say one word.

***

Rocket has no way of telling what time it is when he opens his eyes, or if time is even a thing anymore. When he closes his eyes, sated and smiling, the sky is a calm, bluesy dusk. When he opens his eyes, the sky looks exactly the same. Rocket managed to wriggle back into his pants before tucking himself against Thor’s side. Thor is still anchored around him, a massive arm pillowing Rocket's head. Fingers twitch against the tuft of Rocket’s neck.

He wakes to Thor snoring with the heavy rise and fall of his chest. Thor was good enough to toss his shirt over his privates for decorum. Still, the smell of Thor's skin fills Rocket up like Thor’s fingers did earlier.

Rocket bumps his nose against Thor’s side. He gets a grunt in return, and a ghost of a smile.

Something else covers Thor’s mouth too. A shadow, stretching over them nestled together in the grass. Rocket squints up to find Thor’s brother standing over them.

Loki’s expression doesn’t look like anything to Rocket, he’s staring like he’s thinking. Rocket bats at the air as if swatting a hand will be enough to make a god go away. “C’mon man, can’t we pick back up with the meet n’ greet tomorrow?”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Loki says.

Rocket bares unamused teeth. “Oh really? From what I heard, you ain’t the same as all these fancy pants Asgardians either. But we both made it, hot shot.”

Loki shakes his head. His eyes are on Thor, solemn and thoughtful. “He shouldn’t be here either,” he says.

No way, it’s too much. Rocket will take all the slights anyone wants to throw at him. But no one’s about to tell him that Thor doesn’t deserve the same paradise as the rest of his people. Thor’s _Thor_! What he did… When he picked up that glove right in front of Thanos’ stupid face… He didn’t hesitate, he just…

Thor didn’t even say goodbye.

“You listen to me, dickface,” Rocket snarls. “I don’t care what you think about him and me, but don’t you ever-”

It’s blue. Everything’s blue. Not the soft shade of night cast over them as they slept in the grass. Blue and unnatural. All powerful. Consuming. Rocket feels it pulling on him. Grabbing him from the grass. Trying to drag him away from here. Away from perfection! Why would- this is the way it’s supposed to be- it’s not _fair_, it-

It’s exactly why Rocket’s here, isn’t it?

“Rabbit?” Thor’s voice is sleep-thick and raspy. “Are you alright?”

Rocket stares up at him, and back at Loki. There’s a soft sort of resignation on the face of Thor’s brother. He turns his back, and the light gets brighter.

There’s nothing. Not even blackness.

An empty without space or form.

Then, Rocket is staring at Thor’s brother again. A Loki with shorter hair and a healing scar on his cheek. One dressed in warrior armor with an infinity stone in the shape of a cube between his hands. They look at each other wordlessly.

Minutes pass before Loki looks down at the cube. The space around him billows with blue light, an open doorway to a destination Rocket has no way of knowing. He’s gone a second later, all that’s left in his stead the drab furniture of this shack. This back alley haunt in New Asgard, far from any prying eyes or ears.

Rocket finds himself wedged against Thor on the table. The Thor he remembers, bushy beard and thick gut, unkempt hair strewn about his face. Only, this Thor has a rosiness to his cheeks, not the pale silence of one who has not moved in weeks. There is wetness to his lips and a gentle rise and fall to his chest.

Slowly, Thor opens his eyes. One of them is missing, a dark crater that seems to swallow Rocket whole.

“Rabbit?” Thor croaks. “Are you alright?”

Rocket nods. He can’t speak.

When the fur on his face mats down with tears, Thor is still way nicer than him. He draws Rocket to his side and doesn't let go.


End file.
